Let Me
by Anonymous Chibi
Summary: Yamasuke Daikeru AU Caught in a world he doesn’t belong in, the Forbidden Fruit has cast its spell on Takeru through eyes meant only to be another patient. All's fair in Love and War, even against your brother.
1. The First Step In A Thousand Miles

**Disclaimer**: o.o Anyone else ever felt the burning desire to drink pumpkin juice?  
**Warnings**: Expect the unexpected! –Breaks out in Card Captor Sakuratheme song-  
... At least I hope this fic isn't too utterly cliché so that it keeps readers guessing.  
Oh, and possible OOC-ness... As always.

**Note(s)**: Le sigh... the site is being mean and won't let me format the story the way I want to ;-;  
**Date**: 5.26.06

**Let Me**  
_The First Step In A Thousand Miles_

We were strangers  
Starting out on a journey  
Never dreaming what we'd have to go through  
Now here we are  
And I'm suddenly standing  
At the beginning with you  
- "At the Beginning"

- - - - -

_... We're not the same. _

_... ... ... This isn't an excuse. _

_... ... ... ... ... We live completely different lives. _

Be cruel to be kind… I just wanted to keep you safe.

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... I'm fading away. _

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... When I'm out of reach, what will you do? _

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... You can't chase me forever. _

But I never wanted you to give up on me. Please don't. Please stay.

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... Don't give it to me. _

_... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ... ...I'll break it you know; I can't handle fragile things. _

_... ... ... ... ... ...Well that's too bad… because I don't want it. _

I'm sorry… I'm so sorry. Please… forgive me.

_Hey… _

_**Hey**… _

_I'm lost..._

_What should I do now? _

_- - - - - _

Sometimes Iori wasn't sure exactly why he got up for work everyday. He hated the traffic he ran into. He hated the impossibly high office building he worked in. And he especially hated the lady on the first floor that always called him "an adorable little piece of applesauce."

The dental plan sucked too.

He would much rather be in a dojo teaching kendo to his students. Then again, he would also rather teach while practicing _on_ the lady from the first floor…

Oooh the temptation.

Nonetheless, he traveled up the elevator to the third floor where a pile of paperwork awaited him on his pristine desk. Another day, another battle against infamous paperwork.

Iori _swore_ it tried to suffocate him last time…

Stepping out of the elevator and walking the short length of a modestly decorated hall, Iori glanced at the gold covered nameplate displaying "Hida Iori," located so professionally at his oak wood desk. The brunette sat in his seat preparing for the day. He booted up his computer, rearranged this and that on his desk, and looked out the window situated so conveniently by his reception desk.

Truth be told, the raspy and groggy voice that came through the brunette's intercom forced a small jump of surprise from him.

"_Iooorrriii… Coffee… Nooow…"_

Immediately, Iori redirected his focus from his computer to the intercom placed on his table, pressing a button to reply, "Takeru?" Pausing for a response that would not come, Iori expelled a sigh. "You pulled another all-nighter didn't you?"

"… _Shut… up."_

Rubbing a temple with his free hand, Iori questioned ritually. "What time did your batteries run out?"

"_Four… in the morning._"

Grand. His boss had a total of three hours of sleep. "You know, any amount of respect for you I had is now gone… You could at least be on Kingdom Heart 2 rather than still be playing Chain of Memories."

"_Boss fights are bitches…"_

"So you said two months ago."

"_Coooffeee… Now!"_

"Anything else I can get for you as well?"

"… _New batteries."_

Iori nearly smirked as he sat back in his chair. "Sorry. It's not in my job description to buy you new batteries when your Gameboy runs out because you still act like a teenager."

"… _The store is just down the street!"_

"Not in my job description."

"… _I hate you."_

"Coffee will be up in a minute."

"_Thank you…" _There was some shuffling in the background as Takeru's muffled voice continued_, "Lousy secretary… won't even get me new batteries… See if I ever-"_

"Takeru. You forgot to turn off the intercom."

"… _Oh, really?"_

"We're still talking aren't we?"

"_Iori… you know you're my best friend right?"_

A sigh. "Two sugars and a cream?"

"_Aaand-"_

"I'm still not buying you batteries."

"_. . . Damn._"

- - - - -

Fifteen minutes later, Takaishi Takeru was still battery-less, but he _was_ enjoying the warm, comforting, and overall pleasant company of a cup of coffee.

Oh, and Iori was there too.

"No clients today, right Iori?"

"None."

Takeru prided himself on the fact that at the young age of twenty-four he was already an accomplished psychiatrist. Having been shipped off to college in his teenage years, he could be regarded as a "genius." Though, the only thing that separated him from other people was his willingness to work harder.

A hell of a lot harder.

In other words… he had been an anti-social-loner-geek during school.

Then again, Takeru's mother was not oblivious to her son's determination merelybeing sublimation for his anger and sorrow. It was hard to watch the one thing you cared for most shattered into pieces… His family-

But that wasn't important. Not right now anyway.

"Speaking of clients however, a new patient just applied yesterday. I still have to check his credit, but if he pulls through then his sessions will begin next week."

"Really?" Sitting up at his desk somewhat, sapphire eyes gazed at his secretary with a raised brow, "What's his name?"

Taking a sip of his tea before setting it gently on the blonde's work desk, Iori answered easily, "Hold on. I'll get his papers…"

Watching as his secretary turned with a sharp pivot and exited his office, Takeru could not help but feel something akin to excitement. He loved his work; helping people was what always what he strived to do… A new client merely meant someone new to take under his wing.

Verdant eyes stared down at the blonde psychiatrist as Iori returned to the room carrying a manila folder and a small box. After placing the items onto Takeru's desk the brunette finally answered the other's question. "His name is Motomiya Daisuke. His family signed him up out of concern."

"Is there some specific problem he's having?"

"His family believes that Motomiya-san suffers from severe depression. Supposedly, about eight years ago, his personality made a complete one-eighty for the worst. He's become reclusive, hardly speaks to anyone, and refuses to interact or participate in activities he enjoyed eight years ago. His family has no idea what could have caused this depression." From the mechanic way Iori spoke, it was evident that he preformed these synopses quite often.

Prodding the box set in front of him, the blonde inquired curiously. "What's this?"

"That… is Motomiya-san's journal."

Quirking a brow, the blonde opened the box. Though rather than the standard book, the sapphire eyed male discovered a tape recorder and a various number of small cassette tapes. "This… is his journal?"

"Motomiya-san plays the piano and tapes his music - recording whatever he will in the language of music. He refuses to explain what he means by his music and none in his family can figure it out. They believe though, that it may be of assistance to you."

"Yeah…" Takeru nearly began to scoff, fiddling with the tape recorder. "Especially when I'm hardly music inclined."

Sighing, the psychiatrist placed the tape recorder back onto his desk and scanned through the contents of the manila folder, his eyes going wide. "Well… this guy's had quite the medical record."

"Thus, you can imagine the family's concern."

"Eleven different psychiatrists?" Takeru near exclaimed, blinking owlishly.

"The longest he's been with one was five months."

"He's also into self mutilation…"

"A common sign of depression, as you know."

"And look at all the pills he's taking… No wonder he's messed up."

Iori frowned at this comment, "That's hardly something professional to say."

"I know." Takeru admitted sheepishly, "But I better get all my surprise out now… new clients are always something completely new."

"Most do happen to have the same problems."

"And yet, they always paint a different picture." Replied the blonde as he leaned back in his seat with a sigh.

There was silence for a moment before Iori responded, "Takeru?"

"What?"

"… Don't try to be metaphorical."

"Too corny?"

"Quite." Smiling mostly to himself, the brunette continued. "Well, at any rate, if you would like to see Motomiya-san, he's actually in the park just down the street from here."

Blinking in surprise at the sudden and unexpected comment, Takeru sputtered a simple, "W-What? Really?"

"Supposedly it's one of the few places he'll go when he isn't locked up in his room."

Smiling, the sapphire-eyed male nodded as he stated, "Well that's a bit of a coincidence. Thanks Iori. This is great, I can see the park from my window."

With a slight bow, the secretary with emerald eyes responded in a business tone, "May I be excused? I have work to attend to."

"Oh, of course. Talk to you later Iori."

Watching as his friend took his leave, Takeru stood up from his seat and walked toward one of his many windows. And for areason implacable to him, he was nervous. Tugging at the hem of his blue collared shirt, the blonde gazed out the window, his cerulean eyes searching.

Finally, he found a vague figure that resembled the picture of his client included in the folder he had been given. Because the silhouette's features were too distant to distinguish definite features, Takeru had to rely on the mass of wild burgundy hair to confirm his suspicions. Yes, he was sure this was Motomiya Daisuke.

It was sudden when burning sphere of the sunset met Takeru's cool azure gaze. Crimson as a smoldering flame, those twin orbs stared with a seductive malevolence like the blonde had never witnessed before. They were calling him, those cinnamon eyes… Alluring him closer until their inescapable fire scalded him.

Takeru's heart skipped a beat.

Then a voice, not unlike the siren's haunting song, infected Takeru's mind. _"It's not polite to stare."_

A siren's song leading the blonde to his destruction, with eyes that would forever be branded within Takeru's mind.

It was then that Takeru's heart _stopped_.

- - - - -

_End The First Step In A Thousand Miles  
_**.:Carry On Dancing:.**


	2. More Than He Seems

**Disclaimer**: Whelp, I don't think I'll ever gets me some pumpkin juice o.o But I've gots a lovely bunch of coconuts.  
**Warnings**: Unintentional and intentional OOC-ness. Especially on Daisuke's part. _But it shall be explained and resolved in later chapters_!  
o.o Erm… No Takeru and Daisuke interaction just yet, though Daisuke does make his entrance! Next chapter will be all Takeru and Daisuke though Something to look forward to I guess?

**Note(s)**: I wouldn't know if any of you have ever held an infatuation with someone (currently has one –shiftyglances-), but I'm abusing my authoress powers and making sure Takeru gets all the fun stuff that come with it! Whoot!  
x.x But I must apologize for the sloppiness of this chapter. I have a cold and it's being quite the little bugger.  
Also, a poorly expressed "Thank you" to all readers of this story! –BowBowBow-  
**Date**: 6.1.06

**Let Me  
**_More Than He Seems_

Since the moment I spotted you  
Like walking 'round with little wings on my shoes  
My stomach's filled with the butterflies  
And it's alright  
Bouncing round from cloud to cloud  
I got the feelin' like I'm never gonna come down  
If I said I didn't like it then you know I'd lied  
- "Why Don't You and I"

- - - - -

Takeru was not sure how or when he managed to pull away from the window; he only knew that he must have at some point in time. For currently he sat at his desk, fiddling almost idly with the enigmatic tape recorder. Silence enveloped him, providing no distractions from the question plaguing his mind:

What the heck just happened?

Eyes that burned with the most glacial flames and a voice the blonde was _certain_ he heard in his head… Takeru could not discern exactly what he felt at the moment, or why everything in his life seemed worthless until this point; but he did know one thing.

"I have… I have to see him."

Promptly the psychiatrist stood from his seat, sapphire eyes glazed with his confusion over what had transpired.

He was just another soon-to-be patient. So why…

Perhaps those smoldering eyes had ensnared him with black magic? Or had his soul unwittingly connected with a kindred spirit? Could it merely be his own sense of curiosity? Why was he so… _attracted_, for lack of better word, to a man he'd never even met before?

Whatever it was, it didn't matter.

"I just… have to see him again."

Takeru made his way to his door and out it, ambling deliberately to where Iori was working so intently. The brunette heard the other before his emerald eyes caught sight of him, to which the secretary greeted with a mere, "Is there something that you needed?"

"You said his appointments would start next week, correct? What time?"

Viridian spheres blinked in accompaniment to a raised brow. "Who?" Blink. A brilliant moment of realization. "Oh, you mean Motomiya-san?"

Nodding his head in something near impatience, the blonde snapped a quick, "Yes, him."

Shuffling through his papers, Iori began to answer, "I was just working on his papers… His insurance is posing a bit of a problem so I-"

Pale hands gripped the edges of the secretary's desk, ocean eyes making direct contact with forest green. "Iori, I… I don't care what kind of problems come up. Just make sure… make sure that he pulls through, okay? Do whatever you have to, take money from my own wallet if there's a financial issue. Just… make sure he comes here next week…" Biting his lip, the blonde paused while his eyes turned downcast, "All right?"

Maybe it was the perplexing desperation gleaming within Takeru's sapphire eyes. Or perhaps the uncertain yet deliberate way he spoke; like a schoolboy trying to confess his feelings. It may even have simply been Iori's subordinate station… But whatever the reason, it forced the brunette to bow his head and utter a soft reply of acquiescence.

"Of course, Takaishi-san."

- - - - -

A week could not pass by quickly enough for the blonde psychiatrist. Though he wouldn't dare admit just how much he anticipated meeting his newest client, Takeru had been counting the minutes off the clock in his wait. Too bad that he was still counting.

"_Are they there yet?"_

"No Takeru."

"_What time is it?"_

"You have a watch."

"_I want to make sure its batteries aren't dead because _someone_ won't go and-"_

"For the last time, your personal errands are not my responsibility!" A pause. "And it's ten 'till two."

"_So… he'll be here in twenty-five minutes?"_

"Yes Takeru."

"_What if he gets caught in traffic or something? Or, what if he gets lost Iori? Did you give his family directions how to get here? Oh no… what if the lady from the first floor starts calling_ him_ an 'adorable little piece of applesauce' and-"_

"Takeru…" Iori dragged a long sigh, his patience tried. "Is it really necessary to keep this intercom on?"

"_I want to know when he comes in."_

"Then wait out here!"

"_But then I'll look too anxious!"_

"Well you obviously are!"

"… _Maybe. But I don't have to look it."_

"Takeru. This is the last time I'm going to say it. Motomiya-san's appointment is at two-fifteen. Two. Colon. Fifteen. That is the same time it was scheduled yesterday, this morning, an hour ago, twenty minutes ago, and five minutes ago. For the love of my sanity, compose yourself Takeru! _He'll be here_!"

There was a deep sigh before Takeru replied. _"Okay… Okay… You're right. I'm sorry."_

"Now can I please finish my work?"

"_Well I'm not paying you to do nothing."_

Choosing to ignore the comment with closed verdant eyes and inhaling and exhaling deep breaths, Iori settled himself to begin his paperwork. Hmm… This needed to be signed and mailed by next week, so he'd save it for later. On this paper he needed Takeru's approval before-

**Click. Click. Click**

Iori twitched. "Takeru. Stop it."

"_Stop what?"_ **Click. Click**

"That infernal clicking!"

"_Well, you told me to compose myself." _**Click**_. "This is a stress relief method."_ **Click. Click**

"Well you're driving me insane!"

"Don't worry about it Iori. I'll give you're a forty percent discount on all your sessions when you finally crack." **Click. Click. Click. Click**.

"If I ever did go insane, I wouldn't dare come to you for help."

**Click. Click. Click**_…_ "_Why not?"_

"You're possibly more insane than your patients!"

"_Now Iori… What did I do to deserve such harsh treatment from you all of a sudden?"_

With a vein pulsating visibly, Iori placed his head on his table in defeat. "Takeru… just go play your GameBoy and leave me alone… Please?"

"_Out of batteries, remember?"_

"If I buy you your idiotic batteries may _please_ I turn off this intercom and finish my work?"

"_You drive a hard bargain Iori…" _There was a dramatic pause as Takeru seemed to be in deep thought_. "But I'll accept."_

Thank Iori's lucky stars.

- - - - -

The trip to the store took no more than fifteen minutes and now Iori was free to work in the tranquility he so greatly desired. Had it not been for the elevator's chime, the brunette would still be immersed in his studious work.

Emerald eyes glanced up at a clock hanging on the wall, frowning lightly at the number… Motomiya-san was exactly twenty-six minutes late.

Punctuality, such a rare gift these days. Well, no matter.

Taking a breath and putting a smile on his face, the brunette prepared himself to greet the newest patient, only to find himself suddenly placed on his guard.

Tall, slender, and of perfect athletic build was the figure that stepped so gingerly off the elevator. Tendrils of wild burgundy adorned a high held head with flawless features, accented with eyes that seemed to burn through Iori's forest green spheres. "Sorry to be so late. The receptionist on the first floor wouldn't come open the door for me."

The secretary was not oblivious to the slick arrogance so finely lacing those words. Pfft, what? The guy couldn't open the door himself?

"Common courtesy," the newcomer continued, his lips twitching into something near a smirk, "such a rare gift these days, hmm? Well, no matter."

The kendo teacher narrowed his eyes; hadn't he just thought those exact words?

"It's… fine." Standing from his seat, and never taking his gaze off the other, the brunette attempted to smile more warmly. Attempted. "You would be Motomiya-san, correct?"

"Aren't you ahead of the ball game."

When Takeru teased, all was fun and games. But this guy… He was plain out mocking him! Was this his idea of a good first impression or what? "I do try. Please, allow me to escort you to Takaishi-san's office."

A hand of tan mocha skin was waved dismissively before the shorter male, the male with cinnamon eyes shaking his head. "No need. Just tell me where it is and I'll let myself in."

Viridian eyes scanned the other from head to toe… The boy was dressed in regular jeans, a blue shirt, and a simple vest. Nothing extraordinary was about this man besides his unbelievable personality. Was this really the patience that Takeru was so adamant to see?

Teeth gritted, it was only the brunette's training that kept his patience in check. "It's called _common courtesy_ that I escort you."

"Really?" Cinnamon eyes blinked as if surprised, only a sly smile betraying his feign. "I call it a formal way of holding my hand. I'm clinically depressed but I'm not going to jump out the window if I'm not watched twenty-four seven."

"Oh, my apologies. Please allow me to rename it for you." Emerald eyes were near glaring, becoming more than irritated by the other's provoking words and attitude. "Let's call it 'down the hall and to the left but make sure that stick is out of your ass before you enter.' Oh, and have a nice day Motomiya-san."

Neither surrendered to the other's prowess while ruby and emerald clashed; silence the only sound of their continuing fray. Finally though, Daisuke turned away, a smirk once again on his face, "You're funny Hida-san. I may just stick around here longer because of you."

"I'm honored."

Verdant eyes watched as the patient made his way towards Takeru's office, where who knows what would transpire within. _What was with that guy_, Iori couldn't help but ponder.

The brunette knew he would regret his conduct in the near future. How could he lose his cool to a brat such as this guy? He, Hida Iori, was a professional, and he _did not_ allow arrogant hotshots named Motomiya Daisuke to get to him.

Though, he had to admit… Arguing with the other had its own strange sense of exhilaration.

Somehow, Iori got the feeling that Takeru had no idea what he was getting them into.

- - - - -

_End More Than He Seems  
_**.:Carry On Dancing:.**


	3. Destined to Fail

**Disclaimer**: o.o Chocolate rice… is _Da Spiffeh_.  
**Warnings**: Unintentional and intentional OOC-ness. Especially on Daisuke's part. _But it shall be explained and resolved in later chapters_!

**Note(s)**: xD Anyone else a fan of Ranma ½? Because I'm like… addicted to it. Yay for free videos on YouTube!  
I'm sorry for the long wait… and I'm sorry that the wait is a disappointment as I personally feel that this chapter is completely… _bleh_.  
I'll do my utter best to provide better writing in the future; I guess laying the foundation for this story is just a bit dull…  
**Date**: 6.8.05

**Let Me  
**_Destined to Fail_

"'Cause she's bittersweet  
She knocks me off of my feet  
And I can't help myself I don't want anyone else  
She's a mystery  
She's too much for me  
But I keep coming back for more  
She's just the girl I'm lookin' for  
- "Just the Girl"

- - - - -

A knock at his door was the only forewarning Takeru received that his patient had finally arrived. Yet, it still provided enough time for him to safely stash away his electronic device and compose himself to a more professional posture.

Manila folder of Daisuke's records? Check. Tape recorder? Check. Award winning smile? Check. Huge book he hadn't read since high school but made him look good? Check.

Oh yeah, Takeru had all his bases covered.

"Uh, come in!"

The command was obeyed and the door was opened, first revealing telltale burgundy tresses. Takeru didn't realize he had been holding his breath until he lungs burned from the lack of oxygen.

Oh, this was turning out to be far too cliché for comfort.

Daisuke entered the room silently, eyes refusing to even glance at the blonde as he shut the door behind himself. It was only when the exit was sealed that cinnamon eyes gazed about the rather large but immaculate office. It had a welcoming feel to it, the effect of the various plants scattered about. A dark colored carpet and dark furniture made up for a formal aura. Basically, it was a carbon copy of all rooms he'd seen previously.

Where _was_ the creativity?

"Motomiya-san, I-"

Finally those smoldering eyes were laid on Takeru, causing him to halt his speech. Why was he so nervous? This was ridiculous!

"Takaishi-san." The name fell from Daisuke's lips as he offered a small bow, a secret suggesting smile intact. "As you know, I am Motomiya Daisuke." The male stepped further into the room, towards one of two chairs placed before Takeru's desk. An elongated sofa type bench stood as Daisuke's choice of seating, it's velvet surface a deep maroon and softer than a pillow.

"You should know that it is my family who is interested in your services and not I. So don't expect me to give you an easy time.

"As far as I'm concerned, you're only providing me with a moment's entertainment, not treatment. So, I guess to put it simply, don't get your hopes up." Such an innocent smile was contradictory to the challenging words Daisuke spoke. "Because no matter how hard you try, I'll tell you right now… You can't save me."

Sapphire eyes blinked curiously at the burgundy haired male before him… What an odd choice of words.

Despite the suddenness of the unexpected words, Takeru shrugged it off and merely smiled while stating amiably, "Well I never promised to save anyone, so I guess I can tell you right now that I'm not going to try."

Leaning back into his chair, the blonde was relieved to discover that most of his earlier anxiety had fled. Excellent! "I'm merely here to help Motomiya-san, I'll leave the saving to your own knight in shining armor."

It was so fast that Takeru almost missed it, but he had the unmistakable pleasure of seeing the haughty expression on Daisuke's twitch in that of annoyance. However, the exotic male was not to be beaten so quickly, his features softened to a degree of deceptive kindness, to which Takeru fell for.

"Daisuke. Just Daisuke. No surnames or honoraries, okay?" The tanned boy smiled something bittersweet. "We might as well make this a friendly two weeks."

"Two weeks?"

"Hmm… You're right. You seem formidable enough… I'll give you a month. Tops."

Blinking in confusion, Takeru tilted his head and arched a brow. "Excuse me Moto- I mean, Daisuke… A month for what?"

"Before you give up on me."

"Give up on you?" In a strange way, Takeru felt genuinely insulted. "Sorry to inform but doctors do not simply 'give up' on their patients."

"Then please dear doctor, explain to me why I've seen eleven different psychiatrists in the past?" Daisuke shrugged, looking away from Takeru in favor of staring out a window. "Don't think that you're anything special Takaishi-san, you'll break the same way all the others did."

"Takeru."

"Hmm?" An arched brow.

"No surnames or honoraries okay? I want to accept your challenge on the friendliest of terms."

Smoldering eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, snapping to gaze into cool ocean spheres. In the eight years that Daisuke had begun his transformation, two traits had always remained.

One of them was his inability to walk away from a challenge.

"Well then, let's start shall we? Begin your psychoanalysis and let's see if I can't give you the textbook answer every time."

"If you insist… How about you tell me about yourself first."

"… Pardon?"

Takeru shrugged. "Tell me about yourself. The changes you've noticed in yourself over the years. Accomplishments, failures… I just want to get to know you better."

Daisuke rolled his eyes and sighed. Kicking his legs up, the burgundy haired male turned and laid down on his couch of a seat. Placing his hands behind his head, the male shut his eyes and replied, "If that's all you want to know then look in my records."

"I'd much rather you tell me Daisuke."

The male had the audacity to grin. "Tough luck Blondie."

With patience bestowed by the gods, Takeru took a breath and replied, "Fine then." Reaching for the manila folder, the blonde began skimming through the papers for the umpteenth time. "This document says you never finished high school; by the age of seventeen you decided to drop out."

"And here you finished college at the age of twenty-two. Shaving off some… eight years it takes for others to finish your practice? Quite the difference isn't it? I must seem _inferior_ to you."

Takeru ignored the comment. "Why did you drop out of school?"

"I fell into a depression remember?"

"Well, it also says here that you were a rising soccer star… But you gave that up along with your education. I would have thought that as an athlete, soccer would have been reason enough to stay."

Here Daisuke visibly stiffened, as if he were restraining himself. Aah, so this was a touchy subject then. "I lost interest… what's so great about… kicking a dumb ball and running around anyway?"

Liar, liar pants on fire hanging from a telephone wire! Takeru felt like singing.

But, thankfully… he didn't.

"I couldn't tell you. I've never been one for soccer, my favorite has always been basketball."

"Really? Stand up."

Blinking curiously, Takeru obliged and stood up from behind his desk. Immediately fiery spheres were running up and down the psychiatrist's physique and the blonde knew a visible blush was painting his cheeks. In only his simple dress pants and a green collared shirt, the blonde felt quite plain, especially when compared to Daisuke's seemingly natural, exotic beauty.

"Yeah… You look like a basketball fan."

"Really? How can you tell?"

"You're physically built for the game."

"… How so?"

"You're a string-bean. A tall, thin, wiry string bean. The ideal basketball player. Bet you had _hoards_ of girls wanting to go out with you right?"

Takeru raised a brow and stiffly sat back in his seat, not sure whether to be insulted or complimented. "Erm… Well, we're not here to talk about me. Let's get back to you."

"I don't see the point in this. It's not going to get you anywhere."

"Your father says that you used to be boisterous and ill mannered but in an expected way for your age. But over the years you've become ill mannered in a sense that you've completely lost respect for those around you."

"He has such a way with words, my father."

"Your mother says that you used to be compassionate and enthusiastic in all that you did. Now, you've become unsympathetic and apathetic. She states that she gets the feeling that you don't care about anyone but yourself anymore."

Daisuke stiffened. "But what I care about isn't her business, is it?"

"Your sister, Jun, stated that you used to be popular in school with lots of friends. Eight years ago, you were fun-loving and could never keep still. She says that the biggest change is how you prefer complete isolation and shut everyone out."

Here Daisuke snorted and crossed his arms, "It's not my problem if my family doesn't want to accept me for the person I changed into. So much for family bonds. They dump me on a bunch of doctors just because I don't want to be happy-go-lucky all the time anymore."

"So… you don't share a good relationship with your family?"

"That obvious?"

"Do you… hate your family?"

"No!" At this Daisuke sat up from his laying position, fiery eyes set on the blonde before him. "My family… They have their faults just like everyone else but… I'm the one that's… unworthy to them."

Takeru made a mental note of that statement. For someone as arrogant as Daisuke seemed to be, such humble words were surprising.

"Hey, why don't you have a clip board or anything?"

Blinking at the sudden question, the blonde repeated with a raised eyebrow, "A clip board?"

"Or a notebook, a tape recorder… Something for you to record anything unusual I say and do?"

Takeru smiled. "If it's really something important, then I'll remember it."

With the attention diverted from his family matters, Daisuke couldn't help but smile while prodding his newest doctor further. "Photographic memory or what?"

"Ha, I wish." Takeru near laughed, shaking his head. "It's just… those kinds of devices make others feel uncomfortable. That's not my intention."

"Aren't you Mister Considerate."

Lips twitching to a grin, the young psychiatrist prepared to excuse Daisuke from their appointment. It would be a disappointment to see the other leave, but time was running short, and at any rate, he'd be sure to see the former soccer player again.

While closing the manila folder however, sapphire eyes caught sight of the picture clipped onto the front of it. The picture was of Daisuke, unsurprisingly, that had been taken eight years ago…

It must have been summer time for such sunny weather and lush greenery to be present in the captured moment. In a park maybe the picture had been taken, or an open field of some sort. Wherever it had been and at whatever time did not seem to matter to the Daisuke in the photograph though. For he stood, in clothes none too variant from those he wore today, with a radiant smile blessing his boyish features. Eyes held an expression of contentment and bliss, and in one arm he carried the burden of a soccer ball…

He looked so happy. Carefree. There were no secrets behind his smile or arrogance within his aura. He appeared as innocent, boisterous, and honest as a child.

What had happened?

What could have abducted this Daisuke from the world, only to replace him with this deceptive, discourteous, and apathetic imitation? With a pristine aura of supercilious sophistication about him, it was hard to believe that Motomiya Daisuke had ever been this cheerful. Perhaps the only positive development in the former soccer player's life was his sudden lack in physical flaws. In eight years, the burgundy haired male had shaped himself into a porcelain doll.

But what was physical attraction good for anyway with such a rotten personality?

Takeru had the feeling that… maybe there was more than met the eye in this case…

However, despite the blonde's surprise to the difference between Daisuke now and Daisuke eight years ago, it could not compare to how similar they still appeared to be.

Motomiya Daisuke and Takaishi Takeru were approximately the same age, both some twenty-four years of age.

The picture had been taken when both males were about sixteen.

And yet…

Daisuke looked like he hadn't aged a day since the picture was taken.

- - - - -

_End Destined to Fail_  
**.:Carry On Dancing:.**


	4. Stumble, Trip, Falling

**Disclaimer:** White chocolate mocha cappuccino…better than pumpkin juice.

**Warnings: **Unintentional and intentional OOC-ness. _But that will be resolved and explained in later chapters. _

**Notes: **Well guys…I'm back. I didn't expect to end my hiatus on this story, but any of you who wished to see the end of this tale can thank all those who have reviewed.

Thank you those who reviewed, you guys are my motivation. And thank you to everyone, for just reading this story.

Feel free to critique, flame, review, do a dance, or whatever…I hope you enjoy this latest chapter and the rest of the story. Sorry for anything lacking in this chapter, some of you may notice that my writing has changed over the years, not really for the better I must say xD…but Yamato now makes his entrance!

**Date: **1.19.09

**Let Me**

_Stumble, Trip, Falling_

A Neverending Dream, a dream of you,

I believe I received a sign of you,

Tonight I wanna hide my feelings too,

As you do when I wanna be with you.

- "A Neverending Dream"

- - - - -

Stepping lighting out of the taxi after paying the driver, Daisuke shouldered his backpack and walked purposefully toward the door of the modest home.

Finally, he could breathe.

After being dismissed from his first session with Takeru, the burgundy haired male immediately hailed a taxi to first bring him home in order to gather a few belongings, then to his current location. Pulling out a set of keys from his pockets, Daisuke promptly opened the door, eager to step inside.

"I'm going to kill you Ken Ichijouji!"

Cinnamon eyes adjusted to the dim lighting of the suburban house, the voices within invoking a genuine smile. Aaah…home sweet home.

"I didn't know Miyako! You can't blame me for being ignorant!"

Setting down his bag, Daisuke toed off his shoes while he heard the steps of a female approach him. "What did Ken do this time, Hikari-chan?"

"He accidently ate the cheesecake Miyako had been saving." Hikari's voice was smooth and amused as the brunette extended her arms to the former star player. "Welcome back Dai-chan, we've missed you."

Allowing himself to be embraced while also returning the hug with his lean arms, Daisuke whispered sincerely, "Missed you guys too." Pulling apart, the burgundy haired man adopted a brilliant grin while already making his way to the kitchen, practically skipping, "Now we have to go save my Ken-chan!"

Gone was the sophisticated and abrasive Daisuke that had appeared in Takeru's office. Replaced now…with that of a carefree child.

Arriving to a rather comical scene of Miyako towering over the blue haired genius with a butcher knife, Daisuke wasted no time in pushing the female aside and latching himself to Ken. "Ken-chan! Miss me?"

Before Ken could answer however, Miyako was already jumping down Daisuke's throat. "Daisuke, don't you even try to defend him! He's getting what he rightfully deserves! So commit seppaku you bastard, or I'll kill you myself!"

Glancing into the violet eyes of his best friend, Daisuke laughed as they so clearly read, "Save me…please?"

"Miyako…" the former soccer star began diplomatically. "I think we can make a deal in exchange for Ken's life."

The knife was lowered a fraction of an inch. "I'm listening."

"How about…Ken and I pose in yaoi pictures for you?"

"WHAT?" Eyes wide with fear and shock, Ken stared at his friend pointedly. Clearly, this had not been his idea of being saved.

"Hm…how many pictures would I get?"

"Five poses, two pictures each."

Lowering the knife to her side, Miyako raised a brow. "Ken's life is only worth ten pictures?"

Daisuke shrugged. "Well, I already sold his soul to you, so his body's all we got left."

"Daisuke, when did you sell my soul—"

"Compromise accepted." Miyako grinned, extending a hand. "And don't you dare back out of it."

"Deal." Sealing the pact by shaking Miyako's pale hand with his tan one, the former soccer star felt suddenly at ease. Being here, with his friends…was much better than wasting his time with some doctor.

"Daisuke, you're not serious are—"

"Daisuke." A new voice interrupted, the speaker adjusting his glasses while he spoke.

Ken frowned as his eyes narrowed ever so slightly. What was it with people cutting him off today?

Deviating his cinnamon eyes in the direction of the one who had called him, Daisuke smiled gently. "Hey Jyou. What's up?"

Offering the slightest smile of his own, the eldest of the group replied simply. "Yamato-kun wanted to see you as soon as you got here."

Nodding in an almost solemn manner, Daisuke released his hold on Ken and began treading the distance that separated him from where he knew the blonde would be. "Okay. On my way."

- - - - -

KNOCK. KNOCK. KNOCK.

"Unless Miyako killed Ken, I don't want to hear it Jyou."

Not even bothering to ask who was at his office door, Ishida Yamato continued with his paperwork. As the head of this crazy, misfit household, he had to stay on top of everything regarding their estate…and he did not want to be disturbed—

The door opened.

Clutching his pen just a little tighter, azure eyes narrowed slightly as Yamato breathed out, "I don't have time Jyou…"

"Stop calling me Jyou, moron."

Blinking in rapid succession, the blonde lifted his gaze to meet those of smoldering cinnamon, a smile beginning to tug at his handsome features. "Daisuke…disrespectful as ever."

"You know you love it."

Rolling his azure eyes while watching Daisuke shut the door behind him, Yamato set aside his pen and paperwork…they could wait. Tugging at the hem of an ebony colored turtleneck and matching black pants, the elder of the two looked all the part of a sophisticated musician. Being a musical artist and the lead singer of his own band…was something that came naturally to him. Having straightened his attire somewhat, the blonde spoke in a casual tone.

"Ken-kun told me your family signed you up with a new psychiatrist."

"Yeah…" Daisuke shrugged, running a hand through his burgundy tresses while leaning against the door. "He's younger than all the others…and surprisingly, not so much of an ass. If anything, he's annoyingly nice, which makes me feel guilty for acting so mean to him."

"Want me to take care of him?"

Cinnamon eyes cast themselves on the form of Yamato, not surprised by the solemnity of his cool azure stare. Ishida Yamato…did not make idle threats.

"N-No…it's okay. I should be done with him in a month. Tops."

"How do you know that?"

"We made a bet." Daisuke began to explain. "Of which there's no possible way he can win. And when I'm claimed the victor, I never have to see him again!" At this time, the soccer star had made a victory sign with his right hand, winking at Yamato with confidence.

He would win this bet no problem. Takeru had yet to see how much of a pain he could be.

Wait…did he just insult himself?

"Well that's convenient. What's the guy's name?"

"Mm…Takashi. Takashi Takeru. Tall, skinny blonde with blue eyes. Actually…" Folding his arms over a lean chest, Daisuke tilted his head to the side, narrowing his eyes while staring at the elder of the two intently. "He looks kind of like you."

"Well that would make sense." Muttering under his breath, Yamato adverted his gaze, his mind suddenly reeling as he suppressed his shock. _Well…what an odd turn of events._ _I'm sure nothing will come of this though…_

"What'd you say?"

Snapping his attention back to the male in front of him, the blonde offered a lopsided grin. "Nothing. Hungry?" Yamato asked while standing from his seat, rapidly changing the topic. "I haven't gone out in a while, care to join?"

"I thought you were busy."

Shrugging his shoulders, the blonde walked around the wooden desk that separated him from the former soccer star. "Got hungry. Can't work on an empty stomach." Long and slender legs brought him to a corner of the room where he had hung a leather jacket on a coat hanger, grasping the clothing with pale digits.

"You're putting on a jacket?"

Casting Daisuke a glance while putting on the said article of clothing, the blonde raised a brow, "Yeah…and?"

Gracefully crossing the distance between himself and Yamato's desk, the former soccer star claimed a seat on the smooth surface while shrugging, "You're going to be really hot."

With his jacket now adorning the upper portion of his body, Yamato adjusted his clothes and ran a hand through his luscious golden tresses, casting the other a sly smirk, "I always do."

Rolling his cinnamon eyes, the younger of the two had to fight back a laugh, "No…I mean it's eighty degrees outside hot. You're going to be burning up as it is in all black."

Yamato winked. "I know."

"Yamato, you know what I mean! Hot! Not…'hot-t!' As in sweating, panting…high body temperature hot!"

A smirk appeared on the rock star's features, "No, I believe that's us after I've had my way with you."

Cheeks of tanned caramel sported a tinge of a blush as Daisuke attempted to rectify his last statement. "Oh shut up! You know that I wasn't trying to make some kind of innuendo."

Treading the distance between himself and the younger male with steps laced with a cat's grace, the blonde merely smirked, "And how do I know you're not?"

"Because I'm not a pervert like you."

Tilting his head to the side Yamato continued their playful banter, "If I was a pervert, then I would have taken advantage of you by now."

"Oh, I dare you to try."

"Do you really?"

As the question hung in the air, Daisuke finally realized the proximity of his blonde friend. Standing just to the side of cinnamon eyed male, Yamato's lean physique towered over him, but not at all seeming oppressive or intimidating. His head was so close that thick blonde tendrils brushed against his own burgundy tresses and he could feel the other's breath kiss his cheek.

He inhaled the blonde's scent, finding himself momentarily intoxicated until slender fingers traced the side of his tanned cheek. Although the gesture was gentle and quietly intimate, it felt more like a slap to reality as Daisuke realized that the question was more serious than playful. Focusing his stare on the sky blue eyes just centimeters from his own, Daisuke knew he was already tilting his head up, wanting nothing more at this moment than to reach the other's lips with his own.

Their breath mingled and they were so close…just one kiss. Just one wouldn't hurt. Just one---No!

"No…" Inhaling and exhaling deeply, Daisuke forced himself to turn his head away, his dry lips demanding a valid reason for this denial of desires. Silencing them by licking his lips, the younger male refused to look up at the blonde while he spoke softly, "I...I…we can't."

A sigh of dejection escaped Yamato's lips before he could stop it as he whispered understandingly, "I know…I shouldn't have tempted myself by being so close."

Forcing a slight smile, the burgundy haired other cast his gaze on the blonde, "Well, I'm sure I had something to do with that tempting."

"Oh, you did."

Shrugging his shoulders, the former soccer player found his lips naturally forming a cheeky grin. "What can I say, I'm irresistible."

Taking steps toward the exit, Yamato rolled his eyes playfully, "Pride cometh before the fall."

"Then how long have you been falling?"

Unable to suppress the bittersweet feeling now lacing his lips, a cool azure gaze was set upon Daisuke, "For a while now…"

He had stumbled when he first met Daisuke, tripped sometime without realizing it, and now he was falling…reaching a new depth every moment he spent with the former soccer star.

Catching on to what Yamato was actually referring to, the younger male pierced his lips together, uncomfortable with the situation presented to him. It wasn't until Yamato called his name softly that the burgundy haired male looked up at his current companion, his eyes unreadable.

"You know…that I'm not just joking and having fun, don't you?"

Nodding numbly, Daisuke responded with a barely audible, "I know."

He heard the blonde take his leave without another word and it was then Daisuke exhaled a deep sigh, his breath seeming to harbor his burdens. His skin whined without the blonde's warmth, his lips complained for being denied, and his heart ached…and ached…and ached…

- - - - -

_End Stumble, Trip, Falling_

**.:Carry On Dancing:.**


End file.
